A very upright, white-turbaned man with a magnificent grey moustache led an entourage of a dozen, his short and bespectacled wife at his side. However, it was a young woman waiting immediately behind them that drew Gillard’s eye. She was dressed in a pleated floor-length white dress with a green and gold sash over one shoulder. Her glossy dark hair fell in magnificent curls to her shoulders.

‘That’s Sonali,’ Claire whispered.

‘My God,’ breathed Gillard. ‘She’s a goddess.’

‘And equally high maintenance, apparently.’

The woman’s huge hooded eyes, framed by dark eyebrows, skated across the congregation before alighting on Harry Roy. She gave him a measured but not effusive smile, and then moved towards him. Her gait was awkward and one hip swept low as she moved forwards. Only then did Gillard notice on the side away from him that she leaned heavily on a stick. She was guided into a reserved area of seating away from the Roy family.

Gillard and Claire exchanged a glance. ‘That’s interesting,’ she said. ‘Could be polio.’

Nearby, the muffled sound of bells and a gong hushed the congregation. At that moment, Zayan, the wedding planner, slipped from his place, squeezed past others in his row, and hurriedly left by the rear door, eyes glued to his phone. He looked distressed. Gillard saw Harry’s head dip, too, as if looking at a phone. The two detectives shared a glance.

‘Nosh2U news, probably,’ Gillard whispered.

Claire looked horrified. ‘Really? At a funeral? They’ve got no respect.’ The detectives joined the others in processing around the open coffin. The funeral directors had done a good job. Mrs Roy looked a lot better than when Gillard last saw her at the mortuary. The wig and the make-up were professionally done, and there were garlands at her feet, and one around her neck. Her hands had been dabbed with turmeric, and he could smell this and other less familiar smells. Prisha, just ahead of him, placed a rice ball in the coffin, and uttered a brief prayer as she passed. A priest in white and saffron robes uttered a mantra in the background.

Then the close family members were invited into the committal room to witness the start of the cremation ceremony. For all the sandalwood scent around, the distinctive and penetrating taint of the burning of human flesh could not be escaped.

Sometime later Harry Roy emerged, and made straight for the two detectives. He looked unwell, almost ghostly in his white traditional robes.

‘Thank you for coming. I hoped that you would by now have some answers for us.’ He searched Gillard’s face. ‘But I see not.’ He looked across at his family. ‘I think my mother would have been disappointed to see how quickly her work has been ruined. Greed, ambition – even love, when blind – can make a pyre of all that we hold dear.’ He looked up at the thin trail of white smoke seeping from the furnace chimney.

‘This doesn’t make sense,’ Gillard said, after Harry had returned to Morag’s side. ‘The bride-to-be is here, yet he’s not gone to speak to her. And didn’t Zayan say the wedding was deferred?’